Damaged Elegy
by FieryFafar
Summary: a sad asshole


His thoughts were a hazy blur. His memories were all that he wished to forget. His eyes stared at nothing, shining silver irises glancing over the horizon that glowed an orange hue. The wind gently caressed his hair and skin, giving light brushes that caused him to shiver. Sounds of nothing sang in his ear, whispering sweet mute melodies that promised a mirage. The boy sat quietly, not moving an inch nor uttering a peep. His thoughts, one that had jumbled into foggy nonsense, lingered in his brain, giving him images that brought naught to his heart.

How long has it been? Since he lived this way? How long has it been? Since his life had changed for the worst? It had been a while. A whole 18 year to be exact. His life that was once so happy, so filled with life, was cruelly stolen from him. The years of smiles and laughter that was once a part of him turned into scowls and tears. Those happy times were gone; kaput. All that was left were the foul memories fate had thrown at him.

Finally, after what seemed like years, a breath broke through his mouth. It was not sad, nor was it anger. It was pity; pity to the child that was once so blissful. Pity to what the child had to face and suffer as he grew to a man that bared so much pain. Pity to the life the child had to go through as he lost everything.

Yes. Pity; a weak, despicable word that he thought he would never use against himself.

He looked down, eyes staring emptily at his open palms. His hands lay on his crossed legs, the numbness soon itching each of his thighs. But he didn't care, if not realize. He just stared and stared, as if hoping that a miracle will pop out his palms like a wizard summoning his magic.

But nothing happened. It was reality, and no magic could bring back what he had lost.

Another sigh. This time, one too heavy and with pain.

His hands moved to his eyes, letting his vision see nothing but darkness. The gloominess only thickened his memories, dragging him down into the past that ate him alive. His heart felt heavy. His breathing felt heavier. His chest felt like creating a hole, allowing the beat of his heart to break free from the torture.

If only that was true. If only he could rip out his heart and threw it to the sea. That would ease him so much. That would calm him from the pain that stayed glued to every parts of his tainted soul. He didn't need his heart. He didn't need emotions. All he needed was an empty memory; anything that prevented him from remembering what he hated the most.

A smile. Her smile flashed in his closed vision. A smile any child would be overjoyed to see. That smile brought warmth to his heart. That voice that brought joy to his life. A smile from a miracle; a miracle called 'mother'; a miracle he would never see.

That smile only deepened the wound.

His chest felt heavier. His breathing hitched. As if he had swallowed thick acid, something clogged in his throat, preventing him from breathing through mouth or nose.

His eyes felt wet. And that only damned him.

"Shit." A hiss mixed with wind, one that sounded like someone had held his breath for so long. Stream of clear water circled around his eyes, threatening to trail and mock his very presence. One hand moved to his crimson hair. One clutched his broken heart.

A tear finally made its way down his cheek, and to his dismaying surprise, he couldn't care less.

That smile. Her touch. Her voice. He would never see them. He would never feel them. He would never hear them.

That single tear dropped from his chin, gravity pulling it until it dripped down into the vast ocean. His head was down, hair cascading to the sides of his sullen face. Eyes were open, showing nothing but grim and glum. His lips gave no frown, but a scowl wasn't present either. It formed a thin line, baring no emotion compared to his lamenting eyes.

He sat there quietly, letting his soul flow to wherever it desired. His memories were now untangling, thankfully, but all that it led him was the clear vision of his mother, smiling and waving to a happy little boy that was now painfully dead.

His name was all that remembered him of her.

"Mama…" His voice faltered like broken bells. Each breath that he took felt agonizing, unbearable even as oxygen felt like poison.

If only tears were the source of revival, then he wouldn't have to hide the pain that only stabbed his every will.

_**END.**_

__**0-0-0**

**a sad asshole**


End file.
